Watching the wet snow fall in Ridge Farm this evening got me thinking about hiking in inclement weather. For those who know me, you are probably aware I'm a bit wary about walking around in snow and ice. Part of this is my worrisome nature, but a part is based on personal experience, as I've had the misfortune of falling many, many times on icy and snowy terrain. Fortunately, its never been more than a few scrapes and bruises, a bit of humility, and the occasional ruined pair of pants.
It should be noted that most of these slips have happened in my own yard, driveway, or while walking to work from the parking lot. I've only slipped three time while walking in muddy, snowy, or icy conditions out in nature, at least in recent memory. One was because I was a dumbass who stepped right on to a frost-covered bridge without thinking (Fat Man Goes BOOM on his bottom at Unicoi Bottoms! This and more at 11), while another was walking down a small snow covered hill in Cade's Cove. The most serious was when I took a tumble on an incredibly slippery boardwalk in Okefenokee Swamp. There I felt tightness in my upper leg, which probably would have become serious had I not pulled my leg out from under me surprisingly quickly. It was a little sore walking around at Disney World (and the lovely Tibet-Butler Nature Preserve) with my sister, but other than that it was fine. All in all I've been lucky.
However, being lucky with my slips still doesn't abate my worries. That doesn't mean it controls me, as I've gone out hiking in rainy or even snowy (in the case of Cades Cove) conditions even fairly recently. Were it just a fear of falling down, I don't think I'd think that much on it.
Of course, there is more than just slips and falls to think about when it comes to hiking and inclement weather. When hiking in the winter, in wintry conditions, or when it is rainy and 60 degrees or colder, the ever-present threat of hypothermia is out there. When I think of this, I'm reminded of a short hike my brother and I did out at Rocky Mountains National Park. Although it started out nice and sunny, it turned cool and rainy as we finished up the hike. A good half-mile or more was in these conditions. Of course, that isn't that far, but when you are an idiot out-of-shape flatlander hiking without a jacket or any covering in pouring rain, it seems like 20 miles. I'm not sure we were ever in danger of hypothermia, although it certainly wasn't good for us. Still, had it been colder, or were we a couple miles deeper into our trip, I'm not sure how that would have turned out.
As you could probably gather from that only partially related tale above, another factor of hiking, at least on trails in mountainous areas, is the dynamic nature of weather. Having spent several weekends in the Smokies, and having taken several trips to the Rockies, I can attest to how quickly weather can deteriorate. Although the Appalachian Trail and its companions in the east aren't quite as exposed to threats of lightning (because of their lack of land above treeline), it still is something to think about, especially when hiking in balds or our ridgelines. And of course, especially out west, you have to watch out for normally gentle streams becoming death channels when heavy rain is dumped from above. Being as tall as I am, lightning and open spaces always makes me wary. However, most of this can be avoided by using common sense, not being stupid, and keeping an eye on the weather.
There are other worries related to hiking and inclement weather, but most of those are of a lesser concern. I'm not much of a winter hiker, so things like watching for possible areas of snow that could collapse or the proper use of an ice ax aren't really a concern of mine right now. While I would be worried of camping in a gap as a tornado comes through, I've grown up with that concern my entire life (living in IL, after all), so it doesn't really bother me that much. I'm sure getting caught in a hurricane would be awful, but that is something that you should be able to anticipate. If the track shows it going through north GA, don't hike in north GA around time it is expected.
In the end, I think it is good to be worried, provided it doesn't prevent you from getting out there and hiking. As long as you channels those worries into being prepared, it is a very productive thing to do. So I won't let a little ice, mud, rain, or snow get in my way. After all, there are much bigger things to worry about, like 'squatches and snipes.
Sunday, March 4, 2012
Wednesday, February 29, 2012
Overnight Hike #1: River Ridge Backpack Trail
Trail: River Ridge Backpack Trail (entire length)
Location(s): Forest Glen County Preserve, Vermilion County, Illinois
Total Distance: ~11 miles
Length of Time: 2 Days
Dates: May 24-25, 1999
For the dozens of day hikes I have completed, to this date I've only done one overnight hike. The hike was a culmination of endings. It took place just a couple days after I graduated from high school, the crowning achievement of a spring spent walking all the trails at Forest Glen.
I'm not sure why we started doing it, but after a few trails Beau, a friend and classmate, and I decided we'd walk every trail at the park. On days when we weren't busy with high school activities and the weather cooperated, we'd walk. From the surprisingly awful ascent up Hawk Hill, to the easy and short walks of the Pine Tree and Beech Grove trails, we did them all. As we reached the end of the list of trails, we decided to make the River Ridge Backpack trail a real experience, complete with a trail side camp.
Deciding upon that, we chose two days (the Monday and Tuesday after our graduation), began thinking about what to pack, and what food to take.
Looking back, our gear would make any ultralight hiker faint from the lack of sense. The tent was large enough that we both carried part of it. One of us took the poles, the other took the tent and fly. Our sleeping bags were big and bulky, as were the inflatable sleeping pads. Add in the pot, utensils, and water carrying solutions (I honestly don't remember what we used here), and we would have been way over weight even if we had good packs. Which of course we didn't. I had a backpack, but it was at best a day pack, and it took some ingenuity just to get the tent and sleeping bag attached without seriously impeding my walking.
The food was no better than the equipment. We made a run to the old IGA in Georgetown to get our supplies, which weren't exactly the most weight conscious or healthy. The menu for the trip would be pork n' beans, chicken noodle soup, Twinkies, and oatmeal pies. I don't recall taking any drinks besides water, although it is possible we took a few Diet Mountain Dews with us as well.
So, with our makeshift packs overstuffed with heavy equipment and junk food, we set out that Monday to Forest Glen...for a graduation party. Coincidentally, one of our other classmates and friends had his party out at the same place we'd be hiking, so we decided to head there before we began. The hike to the campsite would only be three miles, so we didn't have to leave until the afternoon. Thus we fed on hamburgers and cake before we headed out, after filing the registration for the trail, of course.
The trail from the trailhead (also the Old Barn trailhead and parking lot next to the park administration building) to the first campground is relatively easy. Large parts, including the beginning, are flat, and there are only really two major hills. The steepest one of the day was the last one, which was right before the campground. It was preview of things to come.
After we set the tent up and caught our breath from inflating the damn sleeping pads, it was time to cook dinner. It took us a while to get the fire going, and it took a while for the fire to sort of cook our dinner. Even after this, we still had a lot of time to kill before bedtime. In this day and age, we probably could have caught a 3G signal and watched an episode of Star Trek or something via one of our wireless devices, but this was the ancient era of cell phones. We sat around the fire, a bit tired but otherwise still good. Eventually we decided to head to bed.
This was the first time I actually had camped out in a (semi-)wild situation. Sure, I slept outside a few times at events put on by the Vermilion County Conservation District, and had slept on our deck at home a few times. However, I had never been out there like this. Even though we were but a few miles from towns like Westville, Georgetown, and Cayuga, it was far enough out in the country that we could see stars, bright enough it made us think it was dawn. This incorrect assumption roused us from the tent, which was at that time uncomfortably warm. After scrambling to find a way to tell the time, we finally discovered it was about midnight. Eventually sleep overtook us, and of course by morning the tent was borderline cold.
Breakfast was our sugary processed pastry of choice, eaten quickly after we broke camp. This would be our "long" day, as we had eight miles to make in the long daylight of May. Not being trail experts, we weren't certain when exactly that would be. As it turned out, even at our slow pace we would have plenty of time.
If the first three miles of the trail were fairly easy, the next seven is the opposite. This part of the trail includes almost all of the parts of the trail that are not parts of other trails, and most of these parts are PUDs*. Perhaps they weren't pointless, as we were moving towards, and then away from the Vermilion River. It was somewhat frustrating to realize how many up and downs could be crammed in between where the trail leaves from the Tall Tree trail to where it crosses the bottom of the Hawk Hill trail. Walking the flat connector between the two seems like a short distance, but taking the backpack trail is much longer.
By far the least enjoyable part for me was the part right before the east camp. Here is the most remote part of the trail, and also one of the PUDdiest. I distinctly remember feeling like we'd never reach East Camp, let alone the Big Woods Trailhead, the point where the trail hits the home stretch. In reality this part was probably like one and a half miles at most, and we probably did it in 45 minutes. But at the time it felt like forever.
Finally, we reached East Camp, a part of Forest Glen that most visitors never see. It is a camp in the sense that there are tent sites, a fire pit, and a privy. It feels like it you are actually in the back country, even if it is along a wide path that is accessible by mowers, and is probably just a couple miles or so (if that) from homes and roads. At this point we had walked all of five miles, though it felt like it could have been twenty five.
After East Camp, there were still some additional ups and downs, including the steepest decline of the trail. It was steep enough that we decided to take it by scooting down while sitting. Perhaps it was overcautious, but it did get the job done. Finally we made our last descent down to a small creek, crossed it on a small footbridge, at met up with the Big Woods Trail. We still had just over a mile to go, but here was the first time I truly felt we would make it. Just one more ascent...
Just a few more feet....come on, just two more steps...and we're up the hill!
Sure, we had a mile to go. However, that walk up to the Big Woods Trailhead was the last hill** we'd have to face. Once we crossed the entrance road, we had a short walk through the forest, then a nice walk along a mowed path on the edge of the prairie section of the park.
Had bison been reintroduced during our hike, and they suddenly decided to stampede, I can't imagine us stopping even for that. We were on our last mile, and we could smell the finish line. After a while, we could even see the line, as the car in the parking lot beckoned us on. Finally we reached the end of the mowed grass, crossed the road, and entered the parking lot. We were done.
Interestingly, I've never hiked that trail since then. I've hiked almost every other trail in the park again, but never the backpack trail. It still remains tied with my walk through Cades Cove as the longest continuous hike I've ever done, and the only backpacking hike I've ever taken. I have plans to hike it the first weekend of April. Both the trail and I are thirteen years older, and I've grown fatter, but I will come at it with better equipment. I hope once again I'll be able to feel what I felt when I reached that car on that warm May afternoon.
*Pointless Up and Downs
**It's a hill to us flatlanders, damnit.
Location(s): Forest Glen County Preserve, Vermilion County, Illinois
Total Distance: ~11 miles
Length of Time: 2 Days
Dates: May 24-25, 1999
For the dozens of day hikes I have completed, to this date I've only done one overnight hike. The hike was a culmination of endings. It took place just a couple days after I graduated from high school, the crowning achievement of a spring spent walking all the trails at Forest Glen.
I'm not sure why we started doing it, but after a few trails Beau, a friend and classmate, and I decided we'd walk every trail at the park. On days when we weren't busy with high school activities and the weather cooperated, we'd walk. From the surprisingly awful ascent up Hawk Hill, to the easy and short walks of the Pine Tree and Beech Grove trails, we did them all. As we reached the end of the list of trails, we decided to make the River Ridge Backpack trail a real experience, complete with a trail side camp.
Deciding upon that, we chose two days (the Monday and Tuesday after our graduation), began thinking about what to pack, and what food to take.
Looking back, our gear would make any ultralight hiker faint from the lack of sense. The tent was large enough that we both carried part of it. One of us took the poles, the other took the tent and fly. Our sleeping bags were big and bulky, as were the inflatable sleeping pads. Add in the pot, utensils, and water carrying solutions (I honestly don't remember what we used here), and we would have been way over weight even if we had good packs. Which of course we didn't. I had a backpack, but it was at best a day pack, and it took some ingenuity just to get the tent and sleeping bag attached without seriously impeding my walking.
The food was no better than the equipment. We made a run to the old IGA in Georgetown to get our supplies, which weren't exactly the most weight conscious or healthy. The menu for the trip would be pork n' beans, chicken noodle soup, Twinkies, and oatmeal pies. I don't recall taking any drinks besides water, although it is possible we took a few Diet Mountain Dews with us as well.
So, with our makeshift packs overstuffed with heavy equipment and junk food, we set out that Monday to Forest Glen...for a graduation party. Coincidentally, one of our other classmates and friends had his party out at the same place we'd be hiking, so we decided to head there before we began. The hike to the campsite would only be three miles, so we didn't have to leave until the afternoon. Thus we fed on hamburgers and cake before we headed out, after filing the registration for the trail, of course.
The trail from the trailhead (also the Old Barn trailhead and parking lot next to the park administration building) to the first campground is relatively easy. Large parts, including the beginning, are flat, and there are only really two major hills. The steepest one of the day was the last one, which was right before the campground. It was preview of things to come.
After we set the tent up and caught our breath from inflating the damn sleeping pads, it was time to cook dinner. It took us a while to get the fire going, and it took a while for the fire to sort of cook our dinner. Even after this, we still had a lot of time to kill before bedtime. In this day and age, we probably could have caught a 3G signal and watched an episode of Star Trek or something via one of our wireless devices, but this was the ancient era of cell phones. We sat around the fire, a bit tired but otherwise still good. Eventually we decided to head to bed.
This was the first time I actually had camped out in a (semi-)wild situation. Sure, I slept outside a few times at events put on by the Vermilion County Conservation District, and had slept on our deck at home a few times. However, I had never been out there like this. Even though we were but a few miles from towns like Westville, Georgetown, and Cayuga, it was far enough out in the country that we could see stars, bright enough it made us think it was dawn. This incorrect assumption roused us from the tent, which was at that time uncomfortably warm. After scrambling to find a way to tell the time, we finally discovered it was about midnight. Eventually sleep overtook us, and of course by morning the tent was borderline cold.
Breakfast was our sugary processed pastry of choice, eaten quickly after we broke camp. This would be our "long" day, as we had eight miles to make in the long daylight of May. Not being trail experts, we weren't certain when exactly that would be. As it turned out, even at our slow pace we would have plenty of time.
If the first three miles of the trail were fairly easy, the next seven is the opposite. This part of the trail includes almost all of the parts of the trail that are not parts of other trails, and most of these parts are PUDs*. Perhaps they weren't pointless, as we were moving towards, and then away from the Vermilion River. It was somewhat frustrating to realize how many up and downs could be crammed in between where the trail leaves from the Tall Tree trail to where it crosses the bottom of the Hawk Hill trail. Walking the flat connector between the two seems like a short distance, but taking the backpack trail is much longer.
By far the least enjoyable part for me was the part right before the east camp. Here is the most remote part of the trail, and also one of the PUDdiest. I distinctly remember feeling like we'd never reach East Camp, let alone the Big Woods Trailhead, the point where the trail hits the home stretch. In reality this part was probably like one and a half miles at most, and we probably did it in 45 minutes. But at the time it felt like forever.
Finally, we reached East Camp, a part of Forest Glen that most visitors never see. It is a camp in the sense that there are tent sites, a fire pit, and a privy. It feels like it you are actually in the back country, even if it is along a wide path that is accessible by mowers, and is probably just a couple miles or so (if that) from homes and roads. At this point we had walked all of five miles, though it felt like it could have been twenty five.
After East Camp, there were still some additional ups and downs, including the steepest decline of the trail. It was steep enough that we decided to take it by scooting down while sitting. Perhaps it was overcautious, but it did get the job done. Finally we made our last descent down to a small creek, crossed it on a small footbridge, at met up with the Big Woods Trail. We still had just over a mile to go, but here was the first time I truly felt we would make it. Just one more ascent...
Just a few more feet....come on, just two more steps...and we're up the hill!
Sure, we had a mile to go. However, that walk up to the Big Woods Trailhead was the last hill** we'd have to face. Once we crossed the entrance road, we had a short walk through the forest, then a nice walk along a mowed path on the edge of the prairie section of the park.
Had bison been reintroduced during our hike, and they suddenly decided to stampede, I can't imagine us stopping even for that. We were on our last mile, and we could smell the finish line. After a while, we could even see the line, as the car in the parking lot beckoned us on. Finally we reached the end of the mowed grass, crossed the road, and entered the parking lot. We were done.
Interestingly, I've never hiked that trail since then. I've hiked almost every other trail in the park again, but never the backpack trail. It still remains tied with my walk through Cades Cove as the longest continuous hike I've ever done, and the only backpacking hike I've ever taken. I have plans to hike it the first weekend of April. Both the trail and I are thirteen years older, and I've grown fatter, but I will come at it with better equipment. I hope once again I'll be able to feel what I felt when I reached that car on that warm May afternoon.
*Pointless Up and Downs
**It's a hill to us flatlanders, damnit.
Trekking Poles: Don't Leave Home Without Them
There was a time when I would scoff at trekking poles. And who can blame me? After all, they look a bit odd, like someone skiing without the skis (or snow). Why not just go all out and get a form-fitting body suit.* Just add a fanny pack, and I come complete with no shame, less money, and little sense. Sure, I could see someone carrying a nice big walking stick, especially one that allows you to imagine yourself as Gandalf. But trekking poles? No way.
Then I remembered that I am a big guy who is a) tall, b) too fat for his own good, c) now in his 30s, d) has a history of some knee troubles and e) has the balance of a Fox News report. Looking at it that way, I decided maybe the benefit to my balance and knees would be worth a few odd looks out at Forest Glen.** So I bought a pair of Leki poles while on a short trip to the Smokies. After trying them out, I don't think I could hike without them.
So far I've only taken three hikes with the poles. All have been out at Forest Glen. All three included a large uphill climb, and two included a downhill climb as well. For all three going both down and up, I barely felt any pressure in my knees. Considering how much I feel when I walk up stairs or slight inclines without the poles, I knew they were certainly helping with my knees.
Beyond the benefits to my knees, they also have helped balance, as at least a couple times they've helped control myself as I slipped through some mud. In addition, they've helped me propel myself up hills faster, although unfortunately they can't do anything about my lungs or general shitty physical shape. At least not beyond encouraging me to get out and hike more.
I still have some issues going down hill with them. However, I didn't have a big problem using them on a trail that was clear of leaves and was gravel instead of mud. This might be more of an issue I have with worrying about slipping on mud while going down a hill, or finding a errant hole with my feet as I walk on a trail covered with fallen leaves. Needless to say I need to find a happy balance when it comes to a downhill pace.
Despite the small sample size, I am pleased with my new poles, and am excited to use them on the trails ahead. I imagine they will continue to be crucial as I get into better shape and tackle more challenging ascents and descents, as well as longer trails with more weight than just a water bottle or a coat.
So to those of you who have thought about trekking poles, but have yet to buy some, I say do it. Your knees will thank you, even if your overbearing sense of coolness may object. After all, you may look goofy with them in a parking lot, but they look pretty bitching up on Mt. Katahdin.
* It's like I'm wearing nothing at all! (Obligatory The Simpsons quote for this post)
** I only feel they are out of place at Forest Glen, which is the closest thing to hilly terrain in flat Vermilion County, IL. Out at Blood Mountain or the Smokies I'd just be the latest dumbass weekender with his new poles.
Then I remembered that I am a big guy who is a) tall, b) too fat for his own good, c) now in his 30s, d) has a history of some knee troubles and e) has the balance of a Fox News report. Looking at it that way, I decided maybe the benefit to my balance and knees would be worth a few odd looks out at Forest Glen.** So I bought a pair of Leki poles while on a short trip to the Smokies. After trying them out, I don't think I could hike without them.
So far I've only taken three hikes with the poles. All have been out at Forest Glen. All three included a large uphill climb, and two included a downhill climb as well. For all three going both down and up, I barely felt any pressure in my knees. Considering how much I feel when I walk up stairs or slight inclines without the poles, I knew they were certainly helping with my knees.
Beyond the benefits to my knees, they also have helped balance, as at least a couple times they've helped control myself as I slipped through some mud. In addition, they've helped me propel myself up hills faster, although unfortunately they can't do anything about my lungs or general shitty physical shape. At least not beyond encouraging me to get out and hike more.
I still have some issues going down hill with them. However, I didn't have a big problem using them on a trail that was clear of leaves and was gravel instead of mud. This might be more of an issue I have with worrying about slipping on mud while going down a hill, or finding a errant hole with my feet as I walk on a trail covered with fallen leaves. Needless to say I need to find a happy balance when it comes to a downhill pace.
Despite the small sample size, I am pleased with my new poles, and am excited to use them on the trails ahead. I imagine they will continue to be crucial as I get into better shape and tackle more challenging ascents and descents, as well as longer trails with more weight than just a water bottle or a coat.
So to those of you who have thought about trekking poles, but have yet to buy some, I say do it. Your knees will thank you, even if your overbearing sense of coolness may object. After all, you may look goofy with them in a parking lot, but they look pretty bitching up on Mt. Katahdin.
* It's like I'm wearing nothing at all! (Obligatory The Simpsons quote for this post)
** I only feel they are out of place at Forest Glen, which is the closest thing to hilly terrain in flat Vermilion County, IL. Out at Blood Mountain or the Smokies I'd just be the latest dumbass weekender with his new poles.
Thursday, February 23, 2012
A New Year, a New Mission
So it is now February of 2012. I wish I could say that we here at Red Flaces, White Blazes were in the final stages of prep for our journey on the Appalachian Trail. Unfortunately this is not the case. Circumstances outside the realm of hiking made it unfeasible for us to embark on our trip this year.
I am not here to commiserate on the past, but look towards the future. I'm here to announce that the "Walk with Nature 2012" is now "Walk with Nature 2013". Yep, the walk is still on, it just is going to happen next year.
As of right now, it may likely only be me making the trip, although I hope Erin will still be able to join me. Regardless of who will be hiking the AT in 2013, we will be doing a lot of hiking throughout this year, as well as getting in shape (mostly my problem) and building up our gear collection. Hopefully we won't be going another year without a post, but instead giving you several posts a week.
Now is the point of the post where I awkwardly point to the new widget on the side bar of the site. Between paying expenses for up to eight months without income, the cost of the trip, and acquiring the equipment to make the trip, I am looking at around a budget of $20,000. If Erin goes along, she will also have a significant expense as well. We are attempting to exhaust all options in figuring out how to finance this journey. I am hoping to finance my trip through my efforts as a PHP developer. However, Erin is a recent college graduate, and any help she can get will better ensure her ability to get out on that trail.
Hopefully, you will enjoy our tales of our experiences with equipment searches, huffing and puffing on the trails, and what will hopefully be a successful attempt at making pop can stoves. We don't begrudge anybody who ignores that button, and will never attempt to put our content behind some sort of pay wall. We do this because we enjoy hiking, and because we enjoy telling you about our walks in the woods. To presume that our writing is somehow worthy, let alone requires, compensation would be presumptuous.
Nevertheless, if you enjoy our blog, and feel like passing us a couple bucks for the trouble, please feel free to do so. Any body who donates more than $10 will get a revised compilation of every post from this year, complete with less typos and additional information. In addition, you will receive a paper edition of our trail journal from the AT upon our actual completion of the trail, signed by us.
Expect many new posts in the days to come, as we will be hitting this full-tilt. So add us to your RSS feed, follow us on twitter and please feel free to start up discussions in the comments section. We'll see you on the trail!
I am not here to commiserate on the past, but look towards the future. I'm here to announce that the "Walk with Nature 2012" is now "Walk with Nature 2013". Yep, the walk is still on, it just is going to happen next year.
As of right now, it may likely only be me making the trip, although I hope Erin will still be able to join me. Regardless of who will be hiking the AT in 2013, we will be doing a lot of hiking throughout this year, as well as getting in shape (mostly my problem) and building up our gear collection. Hopefully we won't be going another year without a post, but instead giving you several posts a week.
Now is the point of the post where I awkwardly point to the new widget on the side bar of the site. Between paying expenses for up to eight months without income, the cost of the trip, and acquiring the equipment to make the trip, I am looking at around a budget of $20,000. If Erin goes along, she will also have a significant expense as well. We are attempting to exhaust all options in figuring out how to finance this journey. I am hoping to finance my trip through my efforts as a PHP developer. However, Erin is a recent college graduate, and any help she can get will better ensure her ability to get out on that trail.
Hopefully, you will enjoy our tales of our experiences with equipment searches, huffing and puffing on the trails, and what will hopefully be a successful attempt at making pop can stoves. We don't begrudge anybody who ignores that button, and will never attempt to put our content behind some sort of pay wall. We do this because we enjoy hiking, and because we enjoy telling you about our walks in the woods. To presume that our writing is somehow worthy, let alone requires, compensation would be presumptuous.
Nevertheless, if you enjoy our blog, and feel like passing us a couple bucks for the trouble, please feel free to do so. Any body who donates more than $10 will get a revised compilation of every post from this year, complete with less typos and additional information. In addition, you will receive a paper edition of our trail journal from the AT upon our actual completion of the trail, signed by us.
Expect many new posts in the days to come, as we will be hitting this full-tilt. So add us to your RSS feed, follow us on twitter and please feel free to start up discussions in the comments section. We'll see you on the trail!
Monday, February 7, 2011
My Humbling Hike up Hawk Hill
Originally, this post was supposed to be about my triumph over the eleven mile road walk at Cade's Cove. As I thought about it, though, there wasn't much worth talking about the walk itself. You can gather most of my experience through the album of pictures I took. In short, the weather was chilly but nice, the scenery was amazing, and the going was tough at times. At my lowest points on the walk, I found a timely porch for a needed sit, and words of encouragement from a stranger. In the end, my feet hurt and I was wiped out, but I accomplished it, the longest one day hike I had ever completed.
The next weekend I walked from Cravens' House to Point Park and back on Lookout Mountain. I took it slow on the ascents, stopping every sixty steps or so to catch my breath. This strategy, while resulting in slower progress, kept my progress steady and allowed to complete the hike without much trouble. Climbing almost 600 feet also created a false sense that I was really starting to get in great hiking shape. I was ready for my first benchmark hike: Hawk Hill at Forest Glen County Preserve near Georgetown, IL.
As long as I can remember, Hawk Hill has been a particular nemesis of mine. It is a fairly small incline, just about 60 feet over about a quarter mile or so. However, it has caused me problems, especially as I got severely out of shape after high school. I have to stop about halfway up to catch my breath, often times causing my more fit companions to stop when they really don't need to. It's a bit embarrassing for me, and I've made it a goal to get from bottom to top without stopping. As I was back in town for Thanksgiving, I thought it was time for me to finally realize that goal. Therefore my brother and I headed out there on Black Friday to conquer that blasted hill.
Maybe it was the lack of exercise since I had hiked up Lookout Mountain. Maybe it was residual stuffing from Thanksgiving, or I ate too much at Breakfast. Maybe it was the few extra pounds of weight in my backpack, or me setting a pace I couldn't possibly keep. Whatever it was, I most certainly did not make it to the top without stopping in the middle. My legs were willing, but my lungs had to stop. It was a humbling experience, and the first obstacle I had encountered that I hadn't quite beaten on this journey. I had walked to the top of Lookout Mountain and Brasstown Bald, how could a little ridge overlooking the Vermilion River kick my ass?
At the time, I was pretty disappointed, and felt a bit discouraged. I wouldn't get a chance to do a real hike again until this past weekend. Some of that was due to the holidays, lousy weather, and dealing with my car's tires. However, a good part of that was the amount of discouragement I felt after failing to walk up Hawk Hill without stopping.
As I've gotten farther away from that experience, I've taken a more positive view of it. I was unrealistic to expect to just get up that hill without stopping in the middle. The reason I made it up those much larger (and steeper) inclines was because I kept to my system. It didn't matter that I stopped to catch my breath, just that I made it to the top. Eventually I'll get to where I can take that hike up from the Vermilion in one stretch, without having to catch my breath part way through. But until then, pacing matters more than some abstract accomplishment. That, coupled with a gorgeous weekend, led me to a return to the outdoors and the mountains of North Georgia.
But that story is for another time...
The next weekend I walked from Cravens' House to Point Park and back on Lookout Mountain. I took it slow on the ascents, stopping every sixty steps or so to catch my breath. This strategy, while resulting in slower progress, kept my progress steady and allowed to complete the hike without much trouble. Climbing almost 600 feet also created a false sense that I was really starting to get in great hiking shape. I was ready for my first benchmark hike: Hawk Hill at Forest Glen County Preserve near Georgetown, IL.
As long as I can remember, Hawk Hill has been a particular nemesis of mine. It is a fairly small incline, just about 60 feet over about a quarter mile or so. However, it has caused me problems, especially as I got severely out of shape after high school. I have to stop about halfway up to catch my breath, often times causing my more fit companions to stop when they really don't need to. It's a bit embarrassing for me, and I've made it a goal to get from bottom to top without stopping. As I was back in town for Thanksgiving, I thought it was time for me to finally realize that goal. Therefore my brother and I headed out there on Black Friday to conquer that blasted hill.
Maybe it was the lack of exercise since I had hiked up Lookout Mountain. Maybe it was residual stuffing from Thanksgiving, or I ate too much at Breakfast. Maybe it was the few extra pounds of weight in my backpack, or me setting a pace I couldn't possibly keep. Whatever it was, I most certainly did not make it to the top without stopping in the middle. My legs were willing, but my lungs had to stop. It was a humbling experience, and the first obstacle I had encountered that I hadn't quite beaten on this journey. I had walked to the top of Lookout Mountain and Brasstown Bald, how could a little ridge overlooking the Vermilion River kick my ass?
At the time, I was pretty disappointed, and felt a bit discouraged. I wouldn't get a chance to do a real hike again until this past weekend. Some of that was due to the holidays, lousy weather, and dealing with my car's tires. However, a good part of that was the amount of discouragement I felt after failing to walk up Hawk Hill without stopping.
As I've gotten farther away from that experience, I've taken a more positive view of it. I was unrealistic to expect to just get up that hill without stopping in the middle. The reason I made it up those much larger (and steeper) inclines was because I kept to my system. It didn't matter that I stopped to catch my breath, just that I made it to the top. Eventually I'll get to where I can take that hike up from the Vermilion in one stretch, without having to catch my breath part way through. But until then, pacing matters more than some abstract accomplishment. That, coupled with a gorgeous weekend, led me to a return to the outdoors and the mountains of North Georgia.
But that story is for another time...
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
What's the Weather Like
This is a neat table of weather conditions of many locations along the hike.
In fact, that entire site looks like it could be a bevy of information on the Appalachian Trail. Great, as if there weren't enough time sucks out there already.
Sunday, January 16, 2011
Conditioning Hike #4: Cloudland Canyon
October 31, 2010: Conditioning Hike #4 - Cloudland Canyon West Rim Loop Trail
It was just supposed to be a quick trip to the rim of Cloudland Canyon. The night after my six hour hike the day before at the Chickamauga battlefield, my feet hurt and I had little desire to continue the next day. Nevertheless, I wanted to get out and see the foliage, so I decided to keep my plans to visit the north Georgia state park the next day.
I packed my day pack, including some snacks and a bottle of water, because hey, maybe I'd walk a mile or two that day. After breakfast and a drive along US 11 to Trenton, GA, I headed up Lookout Mountain and parked in the lot near the east rim. My feet were still kind of sore, but certainly nowhere near as bad as my rouging and detasseling days. It was a pleasant day out, my heavy breakfast needed to be burnt off, and the trail beckoned. And so begins my unplanned hike of the west rim trail at Cloudland Canyon.
Contrary to Chickamauga, the West Rim loop trail was a much rougher trail. Its largest descent and climb were near the beginning, as the trail had to reach the level of the creek that traverses the canyon. Switchbacks eventually took me back up to the other side, where the trail eventually went over rock faces on the edge of the rim. Although this led to a smoother trail at times, it also could be problematic, especially when it became smaller rocks instead of the giant boulders. Nevertheless, it was a small preview of how large portions of the Appalachian Trail is set up, and a different challenge than the graded paths of Chickamauga.
Since it was a beautiful Sunday, and since Cloud Land Canyon is only about a couple hours or less from Chattanooga, Huntsville, Birmingham, and Atlanta, there were plenty of people out on the trail. There were too many people on the trail for my tastes, but people were generally cheerful, and one person even took my picture for me, after I had done so for him and his fellow hiker. I believe I encountered at least three different languages on the trail, a likely result of being so close to a city like Atlanta.
By far the most frustrating part of the trail to me was not the steeper parts, or the somewhat precarious parts near the rim's edge. The winner of this dubious honor had to be the half-mile or so between the beginning of the loop and the edge of the rim facing Trenton. It wasn't particularly steep, but it was a continual climb, and offered no sense of ending. Compounding the frustration was the semi-obstructed view you got when you finally arrived at the rim.
Eventually I made it back around the loop, passing from enjoying the walk to just trying to get it done in the process. I was plenty happy to see the benches and paved path on the east rim, as it meant I was back. All in all, I had walked 4.9 miles on the trail, just a mile or so less than my previous hike. So much for a quiet day in the woods.
Coming Next: Snow, sorghum, and trail magic in Cade's Cove.
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